


Making Up

by Sarahtoo



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 21:47:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4641357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarahtoo/pseuds/Sarahtoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Mr Butler quietly laid the tray he’d assembled on the small table in front of the chaise lounge, then backed out, closing the french doors behind him. He was certain that the inspector and Miss Fisher would appreciate the privacy and, eventually, the refreshment.</em>
</p>
<p>In short, Mr Butler ships it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making Up

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as the third chapter to my smut-fest, Coming Clean, but it wanted to be considerably fluffier than I originally planned, and I couldn’t bring myself to force it to be otherwise! I hope you enjoy it.

Miss Fisher and the detective inspector were having a terrible row, voices raised, in front of the parlor fireplace. Miss Fisher gesticulated wildly as she shouted, occasionally poking a finger into the inspector’s chest; he had planted his hands on his hips and, though his voice was more controlled, the intensity with which he spoke grew, bringing his volume with it before he wrestled himself under control again.

Mr Butler quietly laid the tray he’d assembled on the small table in front of the chaise lounge, then backed out, closing the french doors behind him. He was certain that the inspector and Miss Fisher would appreciate the privacy and, eventually, the refreshment. 

*****

Jack’s face was flushed, his eyebrows lowered and his mouth severe as he looked at Phryne. He knew that his fear was spurring this anger, but she might have died today—it had been rather miraculous that neither of them had suffered more than bruises and scrapes—and all he could think was he had never told her how he felt. That was cowardice. He knew that it was likely she would break his heart, but he’d come to realize that his heart would be broken if he lost her, and he’d rather know that he’d reached for the stars than live with never having tried.

“…why you can’t just stay where I asked you to…”

“…how you can think that I would abandon that poor woman to the clutches of…”

Their voices spiralled around each other, neither pausing to let the other be heard, too concerned with lancing their own wounds to think about the other’s.

“…her husband was counting on me, Jack, to finish the job…”

“…and let the police do what we are trained to do without having to worry that you’d…”

Phryne’s chin jutted stubbornly, her eyes flashing. He might have died today. How dare he presume to tell her that she was not allowed to protect him! Didn’t he know that it would break her if she lost him? Hadn’t that time after Gertie Haynes’ murder been enough to prove that they needed each other? Damn him anyway for making her feel like this!

“…can’t believe you would throw yourself in front of…”

“…and furthermore…”

_“…you might have been killed!”_

Phryne and Jack stood, panting, almost nose to nose. Today’s case had been a dangerous one, and neither had been able to allow the other to go into the final moments of it alone. Before they’d left the crime scene, they’d both said things they hadn’t meant (and some they had), and they’d been seething in cold silence through the long hours of statements and paperwork that had had to be finished before Jack could appear at her front door to truly have it out with her. Now they’d been fighting for what felt like forever, and all of the anger had truly come down to that last thing, shouted almost in unison. 

Their eyes locked, both stopped to listen to the echo of their mutual concern hanging in the air. In a heartbeat, their stances changed, softening; they reached for each other, mouths coming together in a heated clash of lips, tongues, and teeth. Phryne wrapped her arms around Jack’s waist, holding him close; he slid one hand around her back and the other into her hair, pulling her to him. Their worry and anger communicated itself through their hard kisses, but their bodies clung, telling of the softer emotions that underlay the fight. In a few minutes, the kiss drew to a close, and both seemed to become aware of how they held each other. 

Jack laid his forehead against hers, panting for a different reason now, and stroked his thumb over her cheekbone. Phryne’s hands moved up his chest to lock around his neck, fingers stroking into the short, soft hair at the nape of his neck.

“God, Phryne,” Jack said softly, his voice ragged. “I was so frightened. I can’t lose you.”

Phryne’s belly tightened; the thought of a world without Jack was an incredibly bleak one. “You’re not alone in that, Jack. I thought he’d shot you, and I… died. I just died.” Her voice broke.

Jack’s breath caught at what he thought she was saying, and he gathered her even closer, tucking his head onto her shoulder, his hand on her hair stroking down her back. She held him just as tightly, rising to her toes to bury her face in his neck.

Jack held her a moment that way, then bent to scoop her into his arms, carrying her to the chaise and sitting down with her on his lap. He couldn’t bear to let her go. Phryne kept her arms wound around his neck, and she snuggled into him as they sat down. Both of them simply stayed that way, not wanting to talk about how they were feeling just yet, but enjoying the closeness. 

Jack buried his nose in her hair, breathing in the fragrance of her—soap, perfume, and Phryne. He winced a bit. She’d obviously had time to bathe, and he had come charging to her straight from the station, still covered in the sweat and grime of the night’s work. She didn’t seem to mind, though—she had her face tucked into his neck, her hand lightly stroking his hair. He dropped a kiss onto her head. What an amazing woman she was. Without her help, they likely wouldn’t have solved tonight’s case in time to help her client’s wife. Jack might, in the heat of the moment, have wished she’d stay far away from the danger of taking down the smuggling ring they’d uncovered, but he knew that was an entirely selfish emotion. She was more than capable of taking care of herself, as she’d proven repeatedly. 

“Phryne?” he murmured, knowing that he’d hate himself if this truth remained unsaid for much longer. 

“Hmmm?” she replied, drunk on the scent of him, the feel of his body against hers. She’d wanted this for so long! He was truly the best man she’d ever known, even if he was completely overprotective.

“I’m in love with you.” There. It was said. He heard her breath stop for just a moment, and felt her body stiffen. “I’m not saying that to make you feel obligated in any way,” he hurried on, arms remaining tight around her body, chin on her head, eyes closed. “I just… I wanted you to know.”

Phryne felt the prickling of tears at the backs of her eyes. He sounded so sure of those feelings, and yet so unsure of what her response would be. As if she would push him away! She raised her head and drew one hand along his cheek to bring his eyes to hers.

“Jack,” she whispered. Those three words didn’t come easy to her, even in the privacy of her own mind, so she said something that she hoped would convey the message just as well. “You’re everything to me.” She stroked the corner of his serious mouth with her thumb, her heart in her eyes. 

His crooked smile bloomed across his face, his eyes lightening. Chuffing out a laugh, he lowered his forehead to hers again. “Well, that was terrifying. I could use a drink.”

Phryne laughed softly, but didn’t move. “I hope that you don’t expect me to get up,” she said lightly. “I’m not ready to let you go.”

“Never,” he rumbled in her ear, and he kissed her again, this time with care and all the love that was in his heart. 

He explored her mouth deeply, taking his time to discover the texture of her lips, imprinting her taste upon his memory. She kissed him back, sweetly, finding his flavor to be akin to that of the finest wine—bold and unforgettable.

Before long, the tenor of the kisses changed, becoming unapologetically erotic. Phryne’s mouth skating over the shape of his lips, her tongue rubbing against his. Jack broke away from her mouth to taste her cheeks, her neck, the hollow behind her ear. His hand slid up to cup her breast through the fabric of her blouse. Phryne gasped out his name, her fingers clenching in his hair, nails scraping at his scalp as he pinched the hardened point between thumb and forefinger, his mouth latching on the sweetest spot at the place where her neck met her shoulder.

“Jack,” she moaned on a whisper. “Jack, maybe we should move this… conversation… somewhere a bit more private?”

Jack raised his head, his eyes heavy-lidded with desire. “That… seems wise,” he said. 

Phryne kissed him softly before sliding off of his lap to stand, catching both of his hands in hers to pull him up beside her. Bumping the small table with her leg, she heard the clink of glassware. She glanced down to be sure she hadn’t broken anything and saw what Mr Butler had left for them. She burst out laughing.

Jack, confused, followed her gaze, and his laughter boomed out as well. He released Phryne’s hands to reach down and pluck the two glasses of whiskey off the tray, passing one to her. They toasted each other and knocked back the liquor. Taking both glasses, Phryne placed them neatly back on the tray and picked up the small black clamshell case that had been sitting beside them. Her eyes twinkled with laughter as she took Jack’s hand again, leading him out of the parlor.

“Mr B,” she called as they headed up the stairs, “you are an absolute treasure!”

In the kitchen, Mr Butler smiled to himself. He remembered the days when he and Mrs Butler would fight the way that Miss Fisher and her inspector were fighting. And the way they’d make up afterward. He stacked the sandwiches he’d been assembling on a plate in the refrigerator (they’d surely be hungry later), turned off the kitchen light, and made his way to bed.


End file.
